Forlorn Franklin
By Rex Catubig
Note: For 90 years after the Franklin Bridge sank, island barrio folks had pinned their hopes on its replacement. Yet despite plans initiated by local leaders, it never took shape. It took a master stroke from Cong Toff de Venecia, the scion of the 1st Speaker of the House and the 5-time Speaker with his Congresswoman wife, to turn their vision into their legacy.
IT was the lifeline connecting the island barrios to the heart of Dagupan and “the gateway to the west” towns along the meandering Agno, “part of the 12- kilometer Golden Road” linking Dagupan to western Pangasinan.
Built by the Americans in the 1920’s, the concrete and steel Franklin Bridge traversed the wide and deep Calmay River. It was an engineering marvel as it featured a steel drawbridge at the center that opened up to allow passage of tall sailboats. At its foot on the Calmay riverbank, the renowned Colegio de San Alberto Magno of the Dominicans stood proud as a crown jewel amid the humble barrio surroundings.
But nature wrought havoc on the idyllic locale. A devastating flood in August 1935 devoured the riverbank, undermined the foundation of the brick-and-mortar Colegio, and swept away the bridge.
When the flood subsided, only the east portion of the bridge on the Baley side survived. While the Colegio had to be demolished, and the rubbles of its once massive columns and walls lay lifeless and prostrate on the west bank in Babaliwan, on the Calmay end.
The abandoned prone columns became our playground for Erelan, Amotan, and Sampirwan in sheer defiance of the folks’ caveat. We were warned that a “Pugot” (headless zombie) lurked there who vengefully cut the head off the shadows of those who dare desecrate the place. So, we watched out for our shadow in the afternoon sun, making sure the head was intact. The persistent folk myth swore by the death of persons because their shadow was missing a head.
Three decades later, in 1972, another destructive flood hit Dagupan—with surging flood waters rising above several steps of the City Hall’s grand staircase.
The huge flood stirred a rampaging river current that carved anew the Calmay riverbank, sinking forever the last vestiges of the Colegio.
Fortunately, a couple of spans of the Franklin Bridge on the east Baley side, stood defiant of the current and were saved from being swallowed by the river.
Ironically, in the early 2000, man himself almost caused its total obliteration.
The construction of the Pantal-Dawel-Lucao diversion road/De Venecia Highway, had put the historic remnant in jeopardy as it cut across the path of the diversion road being laid out. It is to the credit of the then City officials that their cultural allegiance prevailed and they successfully negotiated with the Japanese contractors to save it from demolition.
38 years after the last devastation it suffered, in 2010, on the 63rd anniversary of ‘Agew na Dagupan’, the city through Mayor Alipio Fernandez, finally gave its belated imprimatur by erecting a marker honoring the role of the Franklin Bridge in the city’s history.
There ensued a city plan to develop the area into a recreation park and cultural heritage hub. But in a reversal of fortune, the blueprint was swept away by the cruel current of politics.
Still, the beleaguered Franklin endured.
Another daybreak came and a silver lining appeared when the visionary Mayor Belen Fernandez assumed office. She had envisioned the Franklin as part of the grandiose plan to develop the riverbank of Lucao-Pantal-Dawel where a new City Hall would rise.
But ruthless politics and clever manipulation of public sentiments held sway—and poor Franklin, though it has withstood catastrophic challenges, became collateral damage of political maneuvering, the budget for the rehabilitation of the area diverted elsewhere.
With its development dormant and plans aborted, the old Franklin bridge lies like a dumped afterthought in the river that was its birthright, even as the De Venecia-Pantal diversion bridge disdainfully looms large close by.
Shall we consign this memorial of our storied past to ignominy? Shall we burn our bridge, so to speak?
Or hold fast to the dream that this remnant of our history be bestowed with renewed glory?
The bridge once framed the beautiful sunset of Calmay River.
We hope it will see another sunrise.
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